The Ten Year Plan
by sliceofperfection
Summary: Addison and Mark turn forty within the same month and begin to re-evaluate their lives and the decisions they've made. AU Maddison Set S4
1. Dreams Just Aren't Enough: Addison

**Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! Since I've been sucking at updating Sick Cycle Carousel (my apologies), I decided to post this shorter fic that popped into my head the other day. It is only going to be 3-4 chapters at most, but it will be enjoyable all the same. I can't seem to let go of my OTP, Maddison, and I feel some of you out there would agree with they were never given a real chance. Anyways, my first attempt at second person alternating POV, hopefully I stayed true to that. Enjoy, eat turkey, god bless...and if you find the time, review!**

* * *

**Dreams Just Aren't Enough~ Addison**

"_I think you'll be my ten-year plan." He admits with a coy smirk, the alcohol currently giving him some courage with these words._

_You quirk a curious brow, the martini glass about ready to graze your lips. Before you take a sip you can't help but ask for clarification, "I'm sorry, you're what plan?"_

"_My ten-year plan," He continues loudly, trying to overcome the blasting music from the nearby speaker. "You know, if in ten years I'm not married, and you're no longer with Derek, you and I will get together."_

_Your eyes widen and you nearly spit out the gin you just took a precarious sip of. A soft peal of laughter escapes from your throat and you cover your nose, as the alcohol burns its way through you. "And why won't Derek and I be together in ten years?" She muses, awaiting his response._

"_Because you're unhappy with him. And I make you happy."_

_Of course Mark would say something like that to you. His feelings for you haven't always been a mystery, but you pretend this is the case for everyone involved. It would hurt Derek if he knew the truth, and you're certain Mark loves Derek too much to tell him how he feels about you. And frankly, it is better for you to feign ignorance and for Mark to screw countless women and remain in denial._

_This is what you ultimately convince yourself of whenever Derek opts out of seeing you at night and staying at the hospital. _

"_Come on," Mark slams his beer down on top of the bar, "let's dance."_

_A coy smile appears across your lips and you realize it's nearly impossible to say 'no' to him. Especially whenever he's trying so hard to make your birthday without your husband so special. You see Naomi and Sam in the crowd on the dance floor and figure you only turn thirty once. Why can't you get what you want for once?_

_You set down your martini glass, an excited smile dancing across your lips. "You must be really drunk if you're offering to dance with me," You tease, but Mark doesn't pay attention to your tone. He pulls you off of your stool and for the first time in a long time, you find the source of your happiness._

Turning forty hits you harder then it probably should. But then again, what can you say about your life that you are truly satisfied with? At forty you've managed to ruin an eleven year marriage, drive away the one man who loved you unconditionally, and compromise your morals by sleeping with a man half your age.

Letting out a deep felt sigh, you swirl around the gin and tonic solution in your martini glass. You probably should request for the entire bottle of gin by your side, but you refuse to lose face. Knowing that the majority of your life is based upon keeping up with appearances, tonight will be no exception despite your intentions of becoming so ridiculously drunk that you can't even remember your own name.

"Another, Dr. Montgomery?" Joe asks whenever you finish your fifth or sixth drink, you lost count a while ago.

You slide the glass across the bar towards him, not trusting your own voice. Your mind is already sluggish and stringing words together seems to take too much effort right now.

Joe must sense your state of melancholy because he can't help but ask with a tone full of concern, "So uh, any particular reason you're my number one patron tonight?"

And then you hear the familiar voice from over your shoulder. "She turns forty today."

You turn your head slowly over your shoulder in an effort not to lose consciousness or feel particularly dizzied (although his presence is a significant factor in assuming the latter of these reasons). "Thank you, Dr. Sloan," You remark sardonically, as if you want him to be the one to tell others of your plight.

"Don't you have a date with some hot blonde tonight?" You squint at him while he settles down in the empty seat to your left. Your tone is harsh, although if anyone has reason to be pissed it's Mark Sloan, not you.

"Nope," He informs you plainly, ignoring the intent to hurt him in your voice. "Tonight I have a date with a hot redhead," And you could have sworn a genuine smile dances across his lips as a sparkle of nostalgia makes its way into his eyes.

You laugh in amusement by this, "You're joking."

"Hardly," He counters before waving the bartender over. "Joe, the usual. And I'm picking up Dr. Montgomery's tab."

"What?" You position the martini glass halfway between the countertop and your mouth, furrowing you brow in befuddlement. "What are you up to Sloan?" You ask suspiciously.

"Celebrating with you," He replies vaguely like this is the most normal thing for _him_ and _you _to be doing. It's like the past doesn't matter as he says this. Or does it?

"What's there to celebrate? I screwed it all up, Mark. My entire life is a waste."

"Oh Addie, I wouldn't say that."

"I would. I have a failed marriage; a failed relationship with you, and a failed attempt at one with Karev. No kids, and even if I wanted them, I couldn't have them. If that's not a waste of life, I don't know what is."

"You still have the ten-year plan."

"What?" You question, growing increasingly annoyed by his attempts to make you feel better. Quite frankly, they only make you feel worse because of the pain you caused him no more than four months ago.

"The ten-year plan," He repeats again. "You remember, we agreed to get together if we were single at forty."

"Did we?" You question. You really don't remember ever agreeing to this. But after a few moments of Mark relaying the scene back to you, it begins to sink in. Only you recall it differently.

"Oh!" Realization spreads across your face, but honesty stifles the purity of the moment. "I never agreed to it. It was _your_ idea."

"Yes," He confesses with a deep breath he's been holding in. Taking a sip of scotch from the portly glass, Mark then adds, "How about you consider the proposition? And get back to me-"

"No," You giggle slightly embarrassed by him trying to talk about a serious matter.

But Mark's not giving up that easily. He moves closer to you, brushing a stray scarlet wisp behind your ear. His tone turns soft and husky as his eyes soberly fixate on you, "And get back to me when you're sober."

The contact sends a chill down your spine and you find yourself relaxing as opposed to tensing like you normally would. You suddenly find it to be too much. Him saying these things, touching you in a way that suggests he still has feelings for you, and the overwhelming effects of the alcohol just rushes through you all at once.

You don't want to cry in front of him because that shows weakness and vulnerability. But it appears you don't have a choice in the matter, your tear ducts have other plans. The salty liquid stings as it passes over your eyes and down your cheeks, and subdued sobs that sound more like your murmuring in a squeaky voice escape from within. Burying your face in your hands, you lean onto the bar top, trying not to make a sense. It's inevitable however, and this is why you are such a horrible drunk.

"Addie, I didn't mean to-" Mark begins as he rests a comforting hand on your back.

"Don't!" You mumble against your hands and the sobs come out even more dramatically. "Don't try and be nice to me Mark, it only makes things worse." You pull away from your curled up position and then cast him a forlorn gaze.

"Addie-" He tries again in his soft, gruff tone that always soothed you.

But not this time. "Stop saying that!" You smack his arm lightly, but this slightest gesture throws your entire body off kilter and you practically fall from the barstool.

And if it weren't for Mark's strong arms and quick reflexes you'd probably end up on the dirty floor. "I got you," He assures you, as he brings you into his chest. "It's ok, it's ok, Addison. I got you."

You don't object to him shielding you from the curious gazes your colleagues and others occupying the bar are shooting in your general direction. In fact embarrassment, is merely added to the long list of overwhelming emotions the alcohol is bringing out in you at the moment.

"Come on," You hear him say as he slams some cash on the bar and scoops up your purse, all the while holding you tightly against himself. "Let's get you home."

"I can't walk," You admit, choking through the words.

"I know," He whispers back to you, "let me help you."

Your face burrows in the hardness of his chest, and you refuse to show your face to the world. Mark doesn't seem to mind because he is able to maneuver the pair of you out of the bar and into his car. And against the lull of the engine and the soft vibrations against the windowpane, you somehow manage to slip away into a restful sleep.


	2. Been Waiting For The Real Thing: Mark

**Hello again! I've decided this fic is going to be a four part arc. This one addresses Mark turning forty and what becomes of the ten year plan, and the other two Ch's are going to be epilogues more or less. A little bit of a warning, there are sexual references made in this portion of the fic. If this offends anyone I would advise you to not read this update. If not, enjoy the Maddison sex (I tried to keep it PG-16)!**

**As always, I own nothing (oh but if I did...) anyways, don't sue. This is all written for fun. Enjoy & I look forward to your feedback. **

**

* * *

Been Waiting For The Real Thing ~Mark**

_She lights up the room; and even with the sadness in her eyes, the sarcasm lying heavy in her tone, and the bottle of scotch with shot glasses in her hands. You decide that even broken and melancholy, she's beautiful. And you love her even more for her imperfections. _

"_Addison?" You breathe whenever she folds her legs underneath herself and pours the amber liquid into each glass. "You know you don't have to do all of this for me."_

"_Are you kidding me?" She cocks an eyebrow and passes you some scotch. "You think I'm going to let one of my best friend's turn thirty and not celebrate it? You, Mark Sloan, are sorely mistaken." She smirks over at you deviously and then angles her glass to yours. "Now a toast-" She trails off thoughtfully._

"_To being old folks," You suggest with a lame shrug, clinking both of your glasses together._

"_And-" She sidles closer to you, her legs practically wrapping around your waist, "-to the ten year plan." She brings the glasses together again before downing her glass in a singular gulp. _

_You tense at her words, unable to drink to something along those lines. "Addie," You speak soothingly, but she doesn't stop herself from pouring another shot of scotch. "Addie," You repeat more firmly, and this time her eyes focus on you. "What are you doing?"_

"_Celebrating with you," She downs another shot and then brings herself closer to your body. _

_It's too close. It's Addison. You shouldn't be letting her wrap her legs around your sitting form, pressing her chest against your arm. But it's _Addison. _And then before you can object or say anything, her lips press against the side of your face._

"_Happy birthday Mark," She breathes into your ear, the warmth sending chills down your spine._

_She pulls away, giggles, and smiles up at you. It's enough for your heart to beat right out of your chest. And she leans her face in to kiss your cheek once more, but you turn your face at the last minute and her lips land on yours._

_Both of you tense and Addison instantly pulls away. You realize what's at stake now. The contact sobers you, and you feel immensely guilty for this accidental kiss. Turning away your face, you remark gruffly, "Sorry."_

_You can feel her eyes burning into your side profile, but you're scared to look back at her. You know if you look over at her, you won't be able to resist staring at her lips. And then things will begin to unravel. So you grab the bottle of scotch from her hands and pour yourself another shot. You nearly choke on it due to the surprisingly genuine words that escape Addison's mouth._

_"I'm not," Her hands reach back to encircle around your neck and she brings herself fully into your lap. Her legs straddle your waist and she forces eye contact upon you. _

_You look into her tantalizing emerald orbs full of immense sadness. The edges of her lids are lined with filmy tears that are ready to spill onto her cheeks. Your heart races, the heat rises in your face from this uncomfortable intimacy you aren't supposed to share with her._

_"Addie," You practically moan out torturously, as your head turns away from her face. "What are you doing?"_

_"It's your birthday," She reasons without an air of self-consciousness. "Don't you want your present?"_

_Your hands come between the pair of you and you try to push her away, but her grip around her neck only intensifies. "Addie, are you alright?" You question, sensing desperation in every facet of her being._

_"I'm fine," She assures coyly with a smirk. "It's only a kiss, Mark. Don't be such a prude."_

_This crude remark sets something off inside of you. An emotion you cannot explain. All you want to do is throw her against the wall, ripped off her skirt and blouse and take her in the most violent manner you've ever done. You need it to hurt in order for all of this to be real. Because in reality (when alcohol isn't doing the talking) Addison doesn't want you. _

_So when your hand suddenly grabs the back of her head and pulls her lips forward onto yours, you feel just what you need to. Her breath tastes like a mixture of alcohol and you suspect she's been drinking well before you arrived. Your tongue forces it's entrance into her mouth, and you can't help but wish this moment would never end. Her lips move in exact synchronization with yours as the electricity escalates between the pair of you._

_You find yourself going down a road you never expected. You've committed many spurious acts before in your lifetime, but none as severe as kissing your best friend's wife. You aren't even thinking about the consequences of your actions as your hands grasp the side of her face momentarily before moving to untuck her white blouse from the grey skirt. _

"_Mark," She chokes out, as your teeth rip at her lower lip in sheer pleasure from his moment. You feel her body tense as you take things farther than you ever thought possible. "What are you doing?" Addison practically moans, but she isn't pleading well enough for you to stop._

_You snake your hands against the lower portion of her stomach, making your pants suddenly feel tighter. And then you angle your face away from hers and mutter throatily, "It's only a grab, Addie."_

_"And it's your birthday," She repeats in a calmer fashion before forcing her mouth against yours for a second time._

_You waste no time in running your hands in a more gentle motion against the nakedness of her stomach. After a few moments of allowing her to grow used to this and focusing enough on the kissing aspect of it all, you dare to place your hands around her lace covered breasts._

_She gasps suddenly at the contact, and you like to think it feels sensational to her in a way she's never experienced with anyone else. Her mouth detaches from yours, but her gaze remains fixated on you as you both allow the fabric of the cups to be pulled in a downward motion. Your thumbs press against her hardened nipples and her lips crash against yours again in an effort to stifle her moans. And while you are massaging her in the erogenous zone that seems rather harmless, s__omething shifts inside of her._

_After a few moments of kissing her fervently and intense grappling of her breasts, you notice the excessive moisture dripping down her cheeks. Her face suddenly moves away from yours and nestles in the crook of your shoulder. Your hands quickly move to cover up her exposed breasts and you find them now resting against the warm flesh of her back. Sobs rack her shoulders as she cries guiltily against you. Your heart aches, you wonder what it is you've done and figure you are part of the reason for this outburst in her. _

_You kiss the nape of her neck since it's the closest thing you can reach and you deem it the chastest position for an intimate gesture. Your throat constricts and you are unable to form words that might be of any comfort to her. The moment is overwhelmingly sad and you don't know how you can justify your actions anymore than she can hers. _

_When you can't stand it anymore, you release the grip you have on her. Forcing her to look down into your sadden, guilt stained eyes, your hand cups the side of her face and you wipe away tear streaks. She chokes at the intimacy again (at least you're sure this is why), but you bring her face closer to yours and plant a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose. "Let's drink some more," You suggest, not knowing any other way to cope with what's happened between the pair of you._

_She nods and a brief smile graces her lips as she untangles her legs from around you. You both finish off the bottle of scotch, which only impairs your judgment further. Your end goal is to get completely trashed to the point where you won't remember the incident. You figure her ideology is similar. However, you silently know this moment is forever etched into your memory and no amount of alcohol is going to suppress the immense guilt that you feel._

You never wanted a big hoopla thrown in honor of you turning forty. In fact, drinks at Joe's amongst a select few would have been just fine. But if there's anything you know about Addison Forbes Montgomery, it's that she is persistent. Persistent and born into a life of privilege, Addison always expects to get her way (and this party is no exception to this train of thought).

You meander around her newly decorated apartment, attempting to be cordial with people you don't really care about. They comment on the décor and other trivial matters that are bland and uninteresting. Eventually you grow sick and tired of being around such smiling, cheerful faces that ask you how it feels to be 'over the hill'. You end up on the balcony outside the lavish apartment that Addison's finally settled into.

The cool Seattle wind nips at your face and the sun has long disappeared over the horizon. You take a sip from the bottle of vodka you've stolen from the bar Addison elegantly set up, figuring it's the least proper thing you can achieve. She was never one to throw showy parties like this one, so you don't really understand the point in drinking from her best glasses and wearing a button down shirt and tie.

The noise of the glass door sliding back and then shut again causes you to turn, and of course it's her. "Hey you," She drains gin from another martini glass, her crimson lips smirking up at you. "You've been rather quiet," Addison observes as she leans her back against the railing next to you.

"Pensive," You correct with a nod before taking another sip from the vodka bottle. It's the good stuff so it won't take as long to get drunk off of.

"Hmmm…" She considers your choice of word with her own sense of wonderment. "Party was a bit too much, huh?" She turns her face up towards you, trying to read your expression.

You nod slowly, careful not to offend her, because really she's done so much to make this evening special for you. "Honestly," You begin after taking another swig from the bottle, "I would have been satisfied if it was just you and I rolling around naked in your bed."

She doesn't catch the sincerity in your tone and merely thinks you're joking. A light smack hits the side of your arm and she laughs harshly, "Mark!"

You flinch at the contact, but a smile presents itself across your lips as you glance down at her in amusement. "What?" You grin sheepishly. She had to know that you would make at least one comment concerning her and sex.

Addison is at a loss for words because she finishes off her martini and pointedly stares up at you with a fixed facial expression. "I can't believe you just said that," She opts with as a reply.

"Well, I did. So you better believe it."

"I'm just surprised that you still think of me in _that _way I guess."

"You mean after you slept with Karev?"

She bites on her lower lip and avoids eye contact. The subject isn't something she's necessarily comfortable discussing with you.

You reach a hand underneath her chin and tilt her face up to yours. You always hated it when she looked away from you. Derek didn't seem to mind making her feel inferior because he never noticed when she couldn't look at him; but you always did.

"What are you doing?" She tenses uncomfortably underneath your touch. Her lips fold under and she tries to fight back the shame present in her eyes from you bringing up a flippant sexual escapade that took place months ago.

"Shhh…" You hush her softly, your fingers grazing the fold of her lips. You know she'll start babbling nervously soon because eye contact was never something forced upon her. Silence falls between the pair of you for a moment. And you find yourself searching her face.

You're looking for answers that should be written across the lines that make up years of laughter and sadness all rolled into one. And for a moment you can't see anything. After a few minutes of consideration perusing, you find what you were looking for all along. The overwhelming grief and remorse that floods forward in the form of hot salty tears show how she truly feels about betraying you.

Her emerald orbs flutter open and close as she tries to evade your gaze. However, you don't give her that satisfaction. It's your birthday and you get to be a little bit selfish for a change without taking any blame.

Your fingertips brush away the warm streams that fall upon her sharp cheekbones, and you feel your arms bringing her closer into your chest. It's the wave of comfort that subdues the hurt both of you have done to one another. And while you can't forget it, you certainly find it in your heart to forgive it.

"I don't know why I did it," She murmurs softly. "I'm sorry."

And it all becomes clear to the both of you that she had no real reason for sleeping with another man. But you forgive her anyways because the regret in her eyes is nothing compared to what you feel for committing a similar crime in year's prior.

"Consider us even then," You breathe against her crown of crimson curls.

She pulls away from your embrace, her eyes surveying your expression for the hidden meaning that could be attached to these words. With Addison and you it was always about the underlying connotations that words contained, so she has a right to be wary.

"No strings attached," You assure her, as if this will provide the answer she's looking for.

Addison looks away from you, most likely ashamed from crying in your arms again. It's the second time in a month that this has happened, and this behavior is uncharacteristic of her. She hides her pain well, tucks it away from the rest of the world, and smiles to the outsiders she doesn't let in. But you are no outsider.

"Addie?" You call out to her, not wanting her to leave. Finding the beauty in the breakdown that is becoming Addison Adrienne Forbes-Montgomery astounds you.

"It's nothing, Mark." She dabs delicately at her eyes, careful not to smear the mascara or alter her appearance in any way that will make the guests question her true emotions.

"Why don't I tell everyone to go home?" You suggest, wondering if she'll want to stay and celebrate privately with you. It would be more fun like that anyways.

Her auburn curls whip over her shoulder as she glances back up at you. "I can." She replies, always finding reason to please you.

You hold out a hand though, halting her progress and go inside and do it yourself. You thank everyone for showing up, tell them that you wish to turn in for the night and hope to see them at work tomorrow. It's very polite and Manhattan socialite-like. But they get the hint and begin to filter out of the apartment.

Addison doesn't return inside until all of them have left. You don't know the reason for this, but you don't question it. You take the bottle of vodka back outside with you along with two shot glasses and a blanket. The air is a bit chilly and you don't want her to freeze or feel the after effects of the alcohol wearing off.

She's leaning with her forearms against the railing as you return. She doesn't turn to see who's joining her; something tells you she assumes it is you. Setting the glasses between the two of you, you fill them with the clear drink.

She looks over at you, surveys the glasses and picks one up. "What are we toasting to?" She asks curiously, her tone maintaining a sarcastic edge.

"Growing old together," You dare to say, obviously gaining confidence from the clear liquid courage you've taken already. "And to the ten year plan of course." You clink the rim of your glass against hers, and down the shot instantaneously.

Addison follows suit. She notices the fiery blanket tucked under your arm and pulls it free. Swirling it around in the air, she drapes it across her shoulders and shivers slightly.

You bring an arm over to encircle both of her shoulders and you stand on her balcony in silence. You take in the sparkling city lights and the low hum that occupies the area twenty-four, seven. At midnight, your watch beeps. Addison turns her face to look up at you.

Her lips twist into a coy smirk as she observes, "It's your birthday."

A wave of nostalgia overcomes you as memories from a decade ago flood your mind. You can't help but smile down at her. It's probably the first genuine smile you've shown her in a long while, and it's due to the little things she remembers. It's the good times of the past you try and hold onto (even if you won't admit that you do).

"Aren't you going to give me a present?" You recite, brushing a stray flyaway from her face.

She swallows the lump in her throat, her eyes gleaming with a different set of tears. "It's only a kiss and a grab," She whispers, her voice cracking with emotion.

Shaking your head slowly you assert in a hushed tone, "No. This time it's more."

Your lips crush against hers in a passionate release that neither one of you has experienced since you lost each other years ago. Addison lets the blanket fall from her shoulders as her hands reach behind you in an effort to pull your body closer to hers. You press her up against the stone wall alcoved balcony, allowing your hands and mouth to explore her body with unbridled vigor. As both of you simultaneously disrobe one another and stumble to the concrete floor, you come to feel an overwhelming mix of emotions. But you are absolutely certain that this time guilt is not one of them.


	3. Want To Feel Like Someone Cares: Addison

**I kind of have a feeling some of you are expecting an update from Sick Cycle Carousel than this fic, but those chapters are much too long for me to even consider writing at the moment. I did get the first portion of CH 6 done, so that's something right? Oh and the fact that I ACTUALLY delivered Maddison fluff this time has gotta count for something too, hah. I am immensely proud of this fic because the end is in sight, and I feel like I did Maddison some justice as a couple. Let me know what you think if feedback is fitting.**

* * *

**Everyone Wants To Feel Like Someone Cares~ Addison**

_The mellowed melody of the doorbell fills the downstairs of the brownstone and sends your heart fluttering inside your chest. He's early and you recheck your watch before scurrying down the stairs in your black knee length Nine West boots he bought for you for Christmas last year. You hope he'll notice you still care about these little gestures that used to mean more than they currently do._

_But as soon as you unhitch the lock at the top of the door and open it, reality hits you harder than you expect. At first your breath catches in the back of your throat and you hope your face hasn't betrayed the crushing disappointment that surrounds you._

"_Mark," You try to smile, but are certain your lips curl more into a tight lipped frown._

_He on the other hand, smiles with more zeal than you've ever seen before. "Addison. This," reaching from behind his back, he reveals a single snow-white calla lily, "is for you."_

_You bite the inside of your cheek, and try to act pleasant with him. But the fact of the matter is, you were hoping this romantic gesture was coming from your husband. "Derek, told you to keep me busy then?" Is all you can manage sardonically before grasping the earthy green stalk and disappearing into the house._

_Mark takes this as an invitation inside. Closing the door behind him he tries to calm your exasperation, "Yeah, well, we both know Christmas is the-" _

"_Busiest time of year for neurosurgeons," You finish sullenly. "I know Mark, I've been hearing that for ten years now." You select a nice vase that was a Christmas present from Derek's mother a few years after you got married ("Don't look too excited, dear, it isn't from Macy's you know. I found it on clearance.") You fill it with water, and set inside the single ounce of sentiment you've received in months._

"_Sorry," He apologizes because he doesn't know what else he can tell you that could be deemed comforting. _

_Pressing your palms on the granite countertop, your face turns up to his and you are certain defeat and indifference are on display. "You know, you don't have to spend time with me if you don't want to. I could always just tell him-"_

"_I don't mind," He shrugs and reassures you with a dazzling grin that could melt the hearts of many women. "Besides, who else is willing to freeze his ass off in order to make sure you get your annual horse drawn carriage ride?" _

_You roll your eyes at his callous words, finding them to be more of a mockery of your current situation than merely a joke. "We don't have to-" You try and object._

"_I know we don't have to," Mark cuts in swiftly, "but maybe I want to. Maybe I want to do this for you, Addie." He cocks a brow with a bold look spreading across his face. "Did you ever consider that Derek hadn't forced me to come and be your escort for the evening?"_

_A shiver runs down your spine as the intense sincerity makes its way into his eyes. Déjà vu hits you unexpectedly and images of his thirtieth birthday come flashing to the forefront of your mind. Unable to continue to face the guilt and truth behind both of your actions, you focus your eyes on the intricate, weblike patterns on the counter. _

_You reach a hand out to stroke the white petal of the curled up calla lily as if drawing some type of strength from it. "Let's say he didn't ask you to come for me," You tilt your head up towards his and continue, "What would you have us do?"_

"_Well," Mark strokes the stubble at his chin while taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "For starters, I would take you out to dinner at Puttanesca. Because I know it's your favorite."_

_Your heartbeat quickens as he mentions your favorite Italian restaurant that Derek always forget to make reservations for. _

"_And then," He continues as he meanders around the counter to end up on the same side as you, "we'd freeze our asses off in Central Park, going on carriage rides and I'd buy you a hot chocolate and I'd most likely continue complaining about the cold, how the Christmas lights are too bright and cheerful, how the horses smell like shit and so on…"_

_You turn your body to face his and only about a foot remain the pair of you. The extent of his gaze and the close proximity of your bodies creates an uneasy tension all around you._

"_Then we'd most likely come back here and share a bottle of wine." A coy smirk crosses his lips, "Or in our case two or three."_

_You nod slowly in agreement, knowing that Mark and you always went through the wine rack a lot faster than you did when Derek was around. Your pale green eyes remain trained on him as you consider this proposition, it not seeming like a bad way to spend Christmas Eve._

"_And then?" You prompt, daring him to continue on with this strictly hypothetical scenario as if the ideas were all his and not suggested by Derek._

"_And then," Mark takes in a deep breath and steps forward. _

_You instinctively back away, your heart beating madly against your ribcage. Mark this close to you is now an uncomfortable circumstance ever since his birthday a few months prior. You can practically feel the electricity forming between the two of you as he advances with that glint of desire in his eyes._

"_I'd tell you how great of a time I had with you," He remarks softly._

_Your lower back hits against the lip of the countertop, and you grip it to keep your knees from crumbling underneath you._

"_Brush your hair out of your face," His fingers reach out to brush a flyaway from your face. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing circles across your cheekbone. "And kiss you goodnight."_

_He leans forward until his hot breath is mingling with yours. Your lips part open with anticipation for another prohibited kiss you are about to share with him until you hear the squealing of the front door._

_Mark lets go of your face and puts immediate distance between your bodies. He pretends to lean nonchalantly against the countertop as Derek calls out to you._

"_Addison!"_

"_We're in here, Derek!" You return, before fanning your face, trying to dispel the heat from rising in your cheeks from nearly crossing another undefined yet inappropriate line with Mark._

_Your husband enters and notices Mark's presence, but doesn't think anything of it. "Oh hey Mark," He nods with a smile and then notices the flower. You catch him discreetly give his friend a thumbs up and wink, and in that moment you realize that Mark wasn't here because he wanted to be._

_You shouldn't feel hurt but you do. And as your husband takes your lips in his own, you tell yourself this is what you want as you attempt to push away forbidden images of kissing another man._

Things progress like they always have for Mark and you; with such a rapid pace that it makes your curl inside your own skin. But this time things are different. He's truly changed from being the loose manwhore, who wouldn't think twice about screwing another woman with you nearby, to a reformed almost gentleman type, who considers you before he considers himself. The latter Mark used to scare you at first because you couldn't read his next move, or discover his true intentions with your heart.

Slowly, but surely you find yourself more trusting and able to believe that when he tells you 'I love you' that it's the truth. And so at three months of utilizing the ten-year plan, he's moved in with you (because the difference between how much he has versus how much you do is astronomical) and the pair of you have informally committed to spending the rest of your lives together.

"Are you sure you don't want to even venture down to city hall?" He question uncertainly, feeling the need that your love should be unified in an effort to keep you forever, since your track record of leaving him speaks against you. "We could make it really simple...just you and me, the judge, and maybe Callie and Derek to serve as our witnesses."

"Mark," You eye him seriously, "if I learned anything about marriage from previous experience, it's that rushing into it ultimately leads to divorce or staying together for all the wrong reasons." It's a reasonable assessment as you recall Derek and you and then your own parents, respectively. "Besides, do you really think it wouldn't be weird having _Derek_ there?" You quirk a brow, using this as more ammunition in your defense against re-marrying.

He opens his mouth to object, but you place both hands on either side of his face and urge your lips onto his. It's quick and chaste, your crimson lipstick smearing against his pale, chapped lips. You brush a thumb across his mouth in an attempt to do away with the bright stain.

"Trust me," You insist softly, your lips curving into a genuine smile, "I'm not going anywhere."

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly and relents, "Ok." His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "You know, even if you did try and make a break for it, I could still catch you." Mark can't help but tease you, despite the solemnity of any conversation. And you must admit, it's partially why you love him so much.

Therefore you giggle at his idea of a joke. "Yes, I know. The heels look fabulous, but they do slow me down."

"Then always wear the heels," He quips with a coy smirk and then crushes your lips against yours in a more passionate, open-mouthed kiss.

"Mark," You moan out, as his lips continue moving along your jaw line and then the length of your neck. "Mark," You try to protest again, pulling his head back away from you so the pair of you can actually carry on a conversation. "As much as I would love for you to ravish me right now, we have plans."

"We do?" He lifts a curious brow, feigning surprise by this statement.

"Yes," A soft peal of laughter erupts from your throat, "you said earlier that you had a surprise for me." You purse your lips into a flirtatious grin, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Damn, I hate that you remember everything I tell you." He grumbles before smiling down at you. Despite the failed sexual attempt, he appreciates you caring enough to remember, even if he doesn't vocalize this thought.

"I want my surprise," You demand sweetly.

"How do you know sex isn't the surprise?" Mark jests suggestively, trying to warm you up to the idea.

"Because with you, that's more like an expectation than a surprise." You counter smartly with a smirk.

"So why deviate from expectation?" He questions with the same air of wit that you also possess.

You tilt your head to the side and shoot him an incredulous look that causes him to loosen his grip on your waist.

"Ok fine," He moves towards the doorway, offering you your coat. "I'm done trying to seduce you."

You manage to slip both arms in the sleeves before Mark arranges it over your shoulders. As you tighten the belt around your waist and wait for him to sling his black leather jacket around himself you inform him, "Don't feel defeated, Sloan. I might need seducing _later_."

"Ooh," He perks up whenever you introduce the idea of sex just not until later. Swinging open the door and gesturing for you to exit first, Mark continues, "Then I better bring my A-game."

You step outside of the apartment and into the hallway. His hand delivers a light smack to your ass, which produces a squeal of delight followed by a laughing fit as he wraps an arm over both shoulders and pulls you close. You both walk out into the cold December air side-by-side, contented.

* * *

Mark stops the car in front of a brownstone two-story home with a broad porch that frames the façade. You peer out of the tinted window with a curious expression on your face. Floodlights illuminate the front walkway and the dying shrubs along the perimeter.

"Mark?" You turn to ask him what on earth you're doing there, but he's already killed the engine and is getting out of the car.

You follow suit, your brow still furrowed in confusion. He pops open the trunk and you walk around to see what he's up to. He pulls out a duffle bag and then slams the trunk shut.

"What are we doing here?" You inquire again; puzzled by the confident grin spreading across his lips with the more questions you toss his way.

"You'll see," He grabs your hand and then proceeds to lead you up the walkway to the darkened house.

"Who lives here?" You probe again, but he pretends like he doesn't hear you.

You both stop short of the wooden porch and Mark deposits the bag on the ground to fish a set of keys out from his coat pocket. As he stuffs one into the lock and jiggles it in an attempt to force open the door, both of you are met with a haunting glow from inside.

"Couldn't this be considered breaking and entering?" You muse with a twisted grin.

"No," Mark steps over the threshold and pulls you inside with him, "I have a key remember?" He lifts the bronze object up for you to see, "Besides, I'm not going to call the cops on us for wanting to check out our own home."

Your heart literally stops beating for a moment, and your entire body tenses at these words. "Wh-what did you just say?" You practically whisper with widened eyes, clearly not expecting him to purchase a house for them without her knowledge.

His lips twist into an uncertain grin as he gestures to the walls surrounding the two of you, "I bought you a house. Surprise."

You gape at him. It's clear the language portion of your brain has shut down and you can only stare up at him against the backdrop of thousands of flickering tea candles that attempt to light up the rest of the house.

Your hand unclasps his and you take a step back, like running is the only defensive mechanism you have in this moment. Because it's all happening so quickly, he's trying to cram what took years of adjustment between Derek and you in a mere three months.

But he reaches for your hand anyway and determinedly walks you through the house.

You notice the grand atrium with a staircase leading upstairs to the right side of the home. Mark leads you further down the hall and to your immediate left is another room with a stone fireplace on the wall farthest from you.

"I figured this would be the living room," He explains briefly. He then stifles your wordless concerns by adding, "And don't worry, I already measured all of our furniture and it fits in here. If anything we'll have more space." He guides further down the hallway, and you notice the hardwood floors pale painted walls against the dim glow of the candles.

Pushing open back two doors that lead into the kitchen area he presses on with a shaky confidence, "And this is the kitchen. Everything's brand new, so we won't have to worry about replacing appliances a couple of years." He seems proud of this fact and you like the overall layout of the modernized kitchen area. "The realtor said this style was very in," He shrugs, not knowing much about interior designing, unlike you.

Mark then points to an adjoining room on the opposite end of the kitchen, "And this would be the dining room." You both walk over to the area in reference and you peek inside. "I know it's smaller than what you had in New York but-" He trails off uneasily.

But with the hardwood floors and grand bay windows that will let light in, you think it's perfect. You smile up at him with liquid lining the edges of your pale green eyes, "I love it."

This comment boosts his confidence because he eagerly talks about showing you the upstairs. You smile because in that moment the growth he exhibits show's he is thinking of your future together, that he's making plans. It excites you.

You ascend the steps together in a quicker fashion, hands still holding fast together. The hallway divides into three bedrooms (one for you two, one for a guest, and one for a younger Montgomery-Sloan that might someday grace you with his/her presence), two bathrooms, and a laundry room (you note this as a convenient feature).

At the end of the hallway lies your master bedroom and Mark pauses to momentarily pause and grin down back at you.

Cocking your head to the side you laugh softly up at his boyishly cute facial expression, "What?"

He turns the doorknob and pushes the door open, gesturing for you step inside first. "And this, is our bedroom."

A small gasp escapes your mouth and you bring up your hands to stifle it whenever you take in the sight laid out before you. A king sized, mahogany sleigh bed against the wall on the opposite wall, taking up space in the center of the room. A top the comforter lies what initially looked like a circular view of white flower petals, but upon further inspection, you deduce it to be heart shaped. And although cliché, somehow in this instance it doesn't feel like it.

Judging by your lack of words, he starts again uncertainly, "If you don't like it we can still return it."

You turn to face him, a tearful smile splaying across your mouth. You never expected to feel such a convoluted wave of emotions such as this. Everything from immense joy to love for him seizes your heart. Mark steps across the room towards you and you wrap your arms around his neck, your eyes looking up into his.

"I think it's perfect." You briefly peck at his lips before deepening the embrace, your chin resting a top his shoulder.

Mark squeezes you tighter than he normally would, his stubble scratching against your cheek momentarily. He's still not certain he's convinced you because he states, "And I know the landscaping needs some work, and it is farther away from the hospital than the old apartment. The neighborhood is a little pretentious too."

"Well," You inform him softly, "we're a little pretentious ourselves." You pull away just enough to look into his face, but you don't break the embrace, "I think it's a fine house for us, Mark. You did good."

"Thanks," He nods appreciatively.

You smile up at him softly, much happier than you ever thought was possible with Mark.

"What are you thinking about?" He chides, obviously reading your thoughts.

"I'm thinking," You breathe out and shrug timidly, "how happy you make me."

He grins out of pure happiness, "Kind of surprising, huh?"

"In a good way," You assure him kindly.

"So," Mark's eyes show a hint of perpetual desire and longing for something you need as well, "what do you say we test out the durability of those headboards?"

You smack the back of his head sharply before releasing you grip on his neck.

"Ow!" He rubs the back of his head where you hit him. "Oh you wanna play rough?" He asserts with a mischievous grin.

You chuckle in amusement at him, realizing the type of game you began. Trying to bypass him, you fail whenever he grabs you around the middle and tosses you over his shoulder. Your high-pitched squeals and protests of _'Mark! No! Stop that!' _fall on deaf ears whenever he settles you beneath him on the bed. His mouth crashes against yours, lips parting open in fluid motions. His tongue slips in between your lips as he continues to kiss you fervently.

You bring your hands up to rake your fingers along his scalp and then down the broad shoulders of his back. Mark busies himself with trailing warm, wet kisses along your jawline and then neck. He moves the fabric of your white boatneck sweater, gaining more access to your ivory flesh. A sense of eroticism overcomes you and you will him not to stop what he's started. Your mind goes fuzzy as you allow yourself to give into desire.

The last rational thought that pulses through your mind, before the pair of you grow busy tearing off your clothing and his own, is how much you really love Christmas.


	4. My Life In Your Hands: Mark

**Gahh! I know I've been terrible with updating. But this time of year is absolutely nuts with my family. I love it and I hate it. Mainly I hate it because it doesn't afford me a lot of time to write. But somehow I'll manage to keep all of you interested in the two fics I have going on right now. Ten Year Plan is quickly coming to a close, but I already warned you it would be a short one. Next Chapter should wrap things up for this Mark/Addison. Lost and lots of angsty flashbacks with fluff involved, so I hope you enjoy the contrast. Sorry for the twitchy ending. Not sure if I like it.**

* * *

**My Life In Your Hands~ Mark**

_You try to ignore the heart wrenching sobs coming from your bathroom. You don't want to hear her never ending cries out to her husband, who could care less about what he's done to her. You try and drown it out with the Yankee's game, but blocking out her pain is a lot more difficult than you initially thought it would be. _Damn it_, you inwardly curse suddenly realizing that you care for her more than you want to._

_No sane man would fall in love with a woman who's still in love with her husband. But you reason that you are the furthest thing from sane. You see a shrink for your reckless behavior towards women and for other traits that explain your emotionally stunted behavior. Your life doesn't make sense, it never has and you are almost certain it never will. Not as long as the guilt consumes you and forces you to try and be the decent man as opposed to the chump who seduced your pseudo brother's wife._

_You plan on letting her cry until she tires herself out and retreats the blackness of your bedroom. After the game you'll lay beside her, wrap an arm over her waist and then she'll initiate what later turns into sex. And at the time it seems like a good idea. She gets her quick fix of feeling wanted again and you don't have the heart to tell her otherwise._

_But this time, something about the intense longevity of tonight's hysterics, doesn't sound right. And whenever she's coughing whatever is obstructing her airway, you hear a horrible retching sound and then the toilet flushing. Post-premier flush you hear more coughing and vomiting from the bathroom, and your need to steer clear of any awkward situation dissipates. Something is obviously wrong and so you push off the couch and head towards the bathroom._

_You knock politely, but don't wait for her permission to enter. She's hiding behind a curtain of red, her hands clutching the edges of the porcelain seat as she empties all the contents of her stomach._

_Shutting the door (not that it matters), you cross the tiny bathroom in three strides and crouch down behind her. Reaching for her long tresses of deep crimson, you pull back her hair and rub circles on her back with your other hand._

_Words of encouragement flow out of your mouth in the hopes that this will calm her down. "It's ok Addie, it's going to be ok."_

_Once she appears to be finished, Addison wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand and is reduced once more into heart wrenching sobs. She leans back into your hard chest and you instinctively wrap your arms around her shuddering form, drawing her closer._

"_Shhh…" You murmur against her temple, as you rock her slowly like a small child on the floor of your bathroom. "It's ok Addie. It's going to be ok."_

"_No," She draws in a shaky breath before bursting into a fresh round of tears. Her face buries deeper into your shoulder as though she can't look at you. _

_You feel like maybe she's ashamed to be so vulnerable at this moment. But as soon as your eyes rest on the white stick on the edge of the counter of the sink, you know it's much deeper than her broken life._

"_No it's not, Mark." She cries out in between jerky sobs, "I'm pregnant."_

_You swallow back the lump in your throat and ignore the somersaulting sensation in your gut. Your arms tighten around her and you press your mouth against the crown of her head in order to stifle the horrifying exclamations that threaten to come out. _

"Hey," She sneaks up behind you, her hand squeezing your shoulder to sharply distract you from the case file in front of you.

"Hey," You offer before glancing momentarily up at her figure. "Wow. You look…gorgeous."

She giggles and ruffles her auburn ringlets that she expertly styled before smoothing along the waistline of her low cut emerald wrap dress. "Thank you," Addison beams proudly up at you.

Everything about her appearance is absolutely ravishing and dirty thoughts instantly pervade your mind as your eyes scan her entire body. You lean in closer to her face, your mouth grazing her jaw line as you murmur throatily, "If it were socially acceptable I'd strip you down to nothing, bend you over this countertop, and have my way with you."

"Oh how romantic," She laughs softly before rolling her eyes. "So are you ready to go or-"

"Oh," You let out a deflated breath, shooting an apologetic look crossing your face. "I'm sorry honey. In-coming patient about a half hour ago." If only you hadn't offered to be the on-call ENT for tonight, you wouldn't be taking away from your live-in girlfriend's flirtatious spirit.

Her eyes convey momentary disappointment, but then she's full of concern for your patient. Your specialty doesn't warrant a lot of last minute emergency cases, so she figures it must be exceptionally crucial.

"How bad is it?" She asks uneasily.

"Oh not too bad," You let out an annoyed sigh, "some moron decided to get into a bar fight and ended up with his face smashed in. So they called in the plastic surgeon to reconstruct his flattened nose."

"Ehh…" She wrinkles her nose, trying to remain sympathetic despite the grotesque imagery.

"I know," You nod with a sigh, "stupid man is preventing me from having a nice, relaxing dinner with the love of my life."

"Awe, now you're making up for that lewd comment," She swoons with a faint glitter of adoration in her emerald orbs and her lips curling upwards into a honey colored smile.

You chuckle in amusement before goading harmlessly, "Maybe I should kill him and make it look like an accident." You extend a finger and point it in her direction, "That way we could have a nice dinner and then-"

She presses her index finger in the crease of your lips, ultimately silencing you. "How about this," Addison tilts her head to the side while considering an alternative, "I cancel the dinner reservation. Stay and watch your surgery from the gallery."

"Addison," You shake your head slowly.

"After your surgery," She interrupts with a seductive grin, her finger pressing harder against your lips. You smirk down at her sheepishly liking the position of control she's taking on. "I'll take you home and then you can strip me down and bend me over any countertop you want."

"And have my way with you?" You grin deviously.

"Mhm…" She quirks a brow and nods with an alluring glow.

"Awww…why haven't I made you my wife yet?" Your elbows slip forward onto the counter as you practically drool over her.

"Because every time you asked, I wasn't ready," Addison reminds you lightly.

You raise a scrupulous brow. Initially she told you remarrying was never an option for her, and therefore, you should give up on trying to marry her. But now she's started to entertain the idea, and it excites you in ways you believed. And so you dare to ask, "Are you ready now?"

She bends her face down and plants a chaste kiss against your scruffy cheek. Her breath lingers momentarily as she whispers softly, "There's only one way to find out." Addison pulls away, with a glitter of shyness present in her eyes. "I'll see you after your surgery," She reminds you before bouncing away in her four-inch designer heels.

* * *

After a rather long and intense surgery, you can't think of anything better than spending the night making love to your live-in girlfriend. Of course it's always spoken in dirtier terms such as "screwing" or "fucking" and she can't bring herself to say anything less crude than this; however, a part of you is convinced she thinks of your intimate moments as sweeter and less carnal. This theory especially holds true whenever you both consider the agonizing two months spent together in New York.

You used to constantly compare your past selves to your present selves. And then after a long-winded emotional discussion on both ends, the pair of you decided to put it to bed (both literally and figuratively speaking). You think the Addison and Mark of present days are more considerate in putting the other first, and you two often bicker over silly little matters such as: who gets to spoil whom more, or if you purchased the wrong brand of toothpaste. You figure these small spats that can easily be made up for with sweet kisses and sensual lovemaking sessions, are healthy for your relationship because there's a kind of release that follows your open communications.

Once the surgery is finished and you sterilize yourself in preparation for returning to the real world, you hurry out to the waiting area where you know for certain Addison is. As you round the corner you notice her dozing off in the armchair, head nodding forward every once in a while before she startled herself awake.

After the latest head bob, she smiles upon noticing your presence. Gathering her purse and briefcase, she stands and meets you halfway through the lobby of Seattle Grace Hospital. "Congratulations on your surgery Dr. Sloan." She applauds your flawless efforts while lacing her arm through yours.

You brush your lips against her temple in a momentary, reflexive gesture before guiding her out of the hospital. "Thank you, Dr. Montgomery." You remark coyly, always loving it whenever she gets in the right mood to formally address you by your title.

"Ready to go home?" You pull her body closer to yours as you lead her towards your car.

"Absolutely," Addison's head leans against your shoulder as she lets out a sleepy yawn.

* * *

She seems recharged as soon as you park the car in the garage and open the door that leads up into the house. Addison grabs you by the collar of your leather jacket and practically pulls you towards her up against the wall.

Your lips instinctively fuse against hers and mouths part in an effort to explore and gain for control of the situation with your tongue. You don't mind that she's so forward and isn't interested in having a conversation leading into it. In fact, ever since you laid eyes on her in that wrap dress, having her body pressed up against yours is all you could think about.

Once both of you have sufficiently kissed each other until your lips are swollen and red, you insist upon carrying her over your shoulder and up the stairs.

"Mark! Let me go!" She squeals trying to squirm out of your grasp, but you know she'll topple behind you headfirst if you listen to her.

"You said I could have my way with you," You assert before lightly slapping her ass. "And have my way with you I shall."

Addison giggles softly at your lusty remarks and tries to behavior while you proceed to carry her like this all the way up to the bedroom. While you don't have an issue with taking her on the first available surface, she always seems to prefer a bed for modesty's sake.

"Yes, but you have to be careful, Mark." She whines frantically, her fists curling the fabric of your shirt into tiny balls. "Urgh…" Her face presses against your back as she groans uncomfortably.

Feeling her body tense against yours results in you gingerly setting her down on the step in front of you. Her feet touch the ground and she finds her footing, but she doesn't unwrap her arms from your shoulders.

Arms hovering out to the side, you bring your hands into the curve of her back and deepen the embrace. "Addie?" You turn your head, trying to catch her gaze but she keeps her eyes shut tight. "Addie what's wrong? What did I-" You grab her shoulders and force her to make eye contact.

A hand flies to her mouth as she turns swiftly and disappears up the stairs, the door to the bathroom snapping shut behind her. Befuddled, you retrace her steps and hover outside the bathroom door while she sputters into the toilet.

After a few seconds you hear it flush and she reappears, wiping at her mouth. Addison's verdant eyes hesitantly meander up to your growing concerned ones. Crossing her arms over her chest she leans against the doorframe.

"Motion sickness?" You quip, reaching out to place an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

She snorts and shakes her head slowly, "I wish that's all it was." Reaching up to run a hand through her copper tresses, Addison offers a weak smile.

"What is it?" You try again, needing her to tell you what's wrong.

"Well," She takes in a slow, uncertain breath, "I was hoping you wouldn't have to find out this way. I mean, it's a lot less sentimental if I tell you that I'm pregnant right after I've thrown up." Her lips curl downward in a sullen frown.

You feel your heart racing and the heat rises in your face. Your eyes widen and a sense of overwhelming surprise, anxiety, and excitement flow through you all at once. It's such a powerful range of emotions that you can feel your knees weaken slightly.

Addison searches your face, trying to read just how you feel about this. Worry has now taken hold of her due to your lack of response, and you place a hand underneath her chin to tilt her face back.

"You're…you're…" You stammer with a rather broad grin spreading across your mouth, "we're going to have a baby?"

She sucks in her lips and nods, eyes brimming with liquid tears. "Uh-huh."

You let out a deep sigh and pull her body closer into a warm embrace. "Oh Addie," You breathe against the crown of her head, planting sweet kisses all over her face.

She giggles, and you smile even wider, seeing her this happy makes everything you've gone through seem worthwhile.

"Mark, you're-you're happy about this?" Wonder fills both her tone and face, by your unexpected enthusiasm.

"Of course I am," You cradle her face in your hands, thumbs lightly caressing her cheekbones. "Addie, you are the love of my life, of course I'd want a family with you." You reassure her softly.

Addison's hands move up to cover yours and she pulls them down so her mouth can gain better access to yours. You smile against her lips, which causes her to smile and giggle from a similar mix of emotions flowing through her.

You're going to be a father. Although it scares the crap out of you, the fact that Addison's already forcing your hands down onto her stomach, puts you at ease. It feels different this time around. She wants this with you now, and you start to wonder what's changed since the first time the pair of you almost became parents. But your thoughts of past events full of suffering and dark times are soon cast aside with three little words.

"I love you," Her eyes glitter with a happiness that melts your heart. Addison reaches a hand to caress the side of your face.

And then you know. You come to understand she finally has everything she's ever wanted. You turn your mouth into the palm of her hand presenting it with a sensuous kiss, knowing that you'll finally be enough for her.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" She breathes out wispily; her head nestled in the bend of your shoulder as you bask in the warmth of one another's naked bodies.

The subject has been on your mind for quite some time now. But now your window of opportunity is wide open to bring up the discussion. You only hope her feelings of intensity mirror yours. "I'm thinking," You consider thoughtfully, "I want you to marry me."

You count the seconds of stillness. Two whole seconds pass before Addison props herself onto an elbow and studies your face seriously. Her brow knits slightly, as if perplexed by your sudden declaration. You determine she's waiting for some type of proposal speech.

Taking her left hand in yours, your thumb rubs along the back of it like you're searching for fortitude. "You're the love of my life," You shrug and smile at her. "There's no one else I want to spend forever with, except for you. I know you're against remarrying and all but…Addie we're about to have a family. I want our kids to see how much I love their mother, and I want them to know they will always be loved because they have two parents who love one another. I want to make you happy and hear you laugh at my dirty jokes all the time. I want to hold you when you're sad and be your support whenever you need it. I want to be all the things you need in a husband. And so…" You pause, to wipe away the salty lines running down her cheeks, "…Addison Adrienne Forbes-Montgomery, will you be willing to tack on another name and agree to be my wife?"

Unable to speak, she nods successively before leaning her face down to yours. She finds her voice whenever she pulls away and leans her forehead against yours, "Yes, Mark. I'll marry you."

Your hand brings her face into your chest and you murmur words of thanks and gratitude against her hair, hoping you will always remain her everything.


	5. Gotta Be Somebody For Me: Addison

**Eh, not entirely sure I am crazy about this ending. Tried to be more poetic with my writing in terms of establishing some type of theme. I either did this brilliantly or I failed. Anyways, I'm very proud at least that this is my first finished fanfic (alliteration..yay!). Thank you to everyone who read this and took the time to review. Without you guys, I wouldn't be here writing MADDISON FANFIC. So a big thanks to all of you...you know who you are. In addition to working on Sick Cycle Carousel I have some other ideas for MADDISON and maybe some ADDEK fanfics. Stay tuned, this isn't the last time you'll see me writing.**

**

* * *

Gotta Be Somebody For Me~ Addison**

_There's a sense of humility when you stand next to the ocean. The vast expanse of never-ending waves pulls away sand, shells, and other debris not strong enough to compete with it. You equate yourself with one of these shells, seemingly strong and sturdy on its own but when coming into contact with a stronger force, you are powerless._

_That's exactly how you feel in your marriage. It's no longer a give and take type of thing. As of late, it feels like you have given Derek exactly everything he wants without any recognition for your benevolence. You've forgotten about your own happiness and have only considered his. It's the last thing you wanted for yourself._

_Marrying Derek was supposed to grant you a special kind of independence from the self-sacrifice the Forbes-Montgomery's always expected of you. But for whatever reason you are now in the same position you were twelve years ago. _

_And yet he's gone. He's gone and you're still wearing the rings he gave you and you can't let go. You can't let go of your first real love. You reason it's because both of you thought your love would last forever. You openly talked about your futures together without any disillusions that a separation or divorce could be possible. _

_It's incredible how things can change with one single decision. You slept with Mark. Derek left. You now find yourself on some beach in the Hamptons, heels dug in the sand, with an embryo present in your belly. The cool water floods around your feet and you let it pull you forward with every wave cycle._

_A pair of strong arms that catch you around the waist and pull you close soon startles you. Mark's warm breath against your neck causes your hair to stand on end, "I was beginning to wonder if you left me or not."_

_It's incredible how lightly he can joke about something she's seriously considered. Your eyes remain trained on the glowing red, orange, and yellow horizon as the sun begins to set. The intensity of the sun mingled with a sense of guilt causes your eyes to water. It's impossible to keep pretending with him._

_You let him hold you and allow the waves to keep crashing around your feet, as the pair of you takes in the sunset with completely different thoughts swimming in both of your minds._

"_Addie," He offers lightly as the sun starts to descend behind the darkening waves, "I love you."_

_A shiver crawls down your spine and you realize you must respond to this. All you can seem to manage is, "Thank you." You cringe at your inability to reciprocate feelings for him, especially whenever he's been so good to you these past couple of weeks. _

_Either embarrassed or contented, you simply cannot tell what he's thinking or how he's feeling. But once darkness overcomes both of you, begin to realize that you can't continue to live this way and that changes must be made._

Barefoot and pregnant, despite the obvious cliché and implied degradation towards women in general, is sensual in this moment. As the cool water sloshes against your ankles, you burrow your feet deeper into the sand. A pair of arms soon wraps around your middle and you can feel Mark's breath dance lightly against the back of your neck.

"Mmmm…" You moan softly, allowing your head to fall back against his chest.

"Hey gorgeous," He murmurs against your ears, "the kiddos want _you _to tuck them into bed." An air of jealousy pervades his voice.

You slowly pivot around in his arms and lace your fingers together behind his neck. "Is someone jealous?" You smile coyly, your eyes sparkling with adoration.

"No," He grumbles, looking away from your knowing eyes.

"Awe," You chuckle softly before pressing your lips against his. "Come back with me?"

Mark nods and the two of you trek through the uneven layers of pale white sand towards the back deck of your LA beach house. You decided that you needed a more practically located house for vacationing in the summer time, and the three-storied beachside home fulfilled this purpose.

It's spacious accommodations allow for more than just your family to be vacationing at the same time. You have begun a new tradition involving the Grey-Shepherd's and their new addition to the family. As you ascend the slightly weathered pale blue painted steps, you allow your husband to lead you back inside to the erupting madness of three toddlers running the place.

You chuckle amusingly as your daughter, Abby, attempts to climb onto a seated Derek's shoulders. Once she succeeds, her fat fingers find the lengthy midnight curls that make up his face. While she's pretending to be a monkey and picking all the "bugs" out of his hair, your son, Aaron is building a tower of blocks, knocking it over and then rebuilding it haphazardly. Derek attempts to reprimand him, while carefully balancing Abby between the back of the couch and his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Meredith is cradling a screaming infant that is refusing to have his evening bottle. It seems like her desperate attempts at disciplining the wound up Montgomery-Sloan twins is causing Derek more frustration than help.

But as soon as Addison waddles into the living room area, with a disapproving look and arms crossing over the swell of her large stomach, the twins instantly stop attacking so crazily. "Alright," She starts sternly, "let's start cleaning up our toys and then give everyone goodnight hugs and kisses."

Both children snap to attention and start picking up the many toys that liter the living room space. Meredith then is able to stifle the screams of little Dylan, and Derek merely shakes his head in disbelief at Mark, who can only provide him with a shrug.

"You would think they would listen once you bribe them with cookies," Derek jokes to his best friend and brother. "But no, they don't listen until the mother death stare is looking them straight in the face."

You turn your head and smirk coyly over at Derek as he says this.

"I wish I could do a mother death stare that Dylan would understand," Meredith grumbles sullenly as the baby boy sips on his bottle finally content.

You reach behind her for her water glass that is sitting on the kitchen counter. "Oh you will someday," You assure her. "Trust me, I didn't perfect mine until the twins flushed their Barbie's and Transformer's down the toilet and the whole basement was covered in poop water."

This sort of talk produces giggles from her five-year-old children, who remember the incident she's referring to.

"Are we all done?" You adjust your tone to a more considerate tone.

Both children nod their strawberry wisps with proud smiles on their faces. "Alright, now give everyone hugs and kisses goodnight." You instructs your babies, who tug on their Uncle Derek and then Aunt Meredith at different times.

Mark then scoops them up in either arm and runs down the hallway towards the steps. You follow the stream of giggles that fill the house and a smile twitches at your lips because your husband is so good at making the kids laugh nearly all the time.

Once they reach the second floor landing, you stop as a fluttering inside your stomach causes you to grip the railing and place a hand on your belly. "Oh, you know you can't do that right now, Elle." You make a face as a ripple of sharp pain presses against your insides.

Mark comes back out on the landing and asks his voice full of concern, "Addie? You ok?"

You nod and then force a tense, teasing smile to appear, "Yup. Your daughter just thinks it's acceptable to kick her Mommy's ribs right now."

He presses a light kiss against your temple and places a hand at you lower back before leading you to your children's bedroom.

"Oh that feels divine," You sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed as his hand lightly kneads a knot in your lower back.

Tilting his head to the side, Mark shoots you a half smile and then offers, "Looks like I'm giving you a back massage later, huh?"

"Only if you want," A shy smile appears across your face as you hint at what your answer might be.

He laughs softly before you each take turns kissing your children goodnight, easing their fears with the fish themed nightlight, and closing their door in an effort to ensure security. It's a never changing routine that both Abby and Aaron depend upon very much like Mark and you.

Changes have been made within the year. Beginning with your fortieth birthday's, to purchasing your home together, then to the birth of the twins followed by an unexpected pregnancy with the third. You suppose that making plans with someone, even if they seem secondary to your initial ones, can make you happier than you ever expected. And you're grateful he told you, you were a part of his.


End file.
